I realised last night, as I was reading the latest chapter in @sincewhendoyoucallme-john ’s Whiteout that this is what we wish for them, Mr Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson, what we draw when we write and what we desperately hope for when we read; finally, the closed circle.
In Zen, ensō (円相 , “circle”) is a circle that is hand-drawn in one or two uninhibited brushstrokes to express a moment when the mind is free to let the body create. The ensō symbolizes enlightenment, strength, elegance, the universe, and mu (the void) … The circle may be open or closed. In the former case, the circle is incomplete, allowing for movement and development as well as the perfection of all things … When the circle is closed, it represents perfection…Once the ensō is drawn, one does not change it. It evidences the character of its creator and the context of its creation in a brief, continuous period of time. ~ Wikipedia
All the wonderful stories that have been and continue to be written, allow for the movement and development of them, their relationship and our understanding of it; the perfection of all things in their friendship and their love.
And what is even more poignant about the ensō is that even when the circle is drawn complete, perfect, it is redrawn by the creator repeatedly.
Whether it be fluff or smut, AU or canon, a little bit of fun or a tale of great beauty, every imagining of these truly remarkable characters, each and every circle, is perfectly perfect.
One of my dear friends @holmezyan once remarked “my favourite story still has no end, but it is gorgeous.” And I think that this is exactly how it was always meant to be.
So here’s to circles drawn, and fanfics written, over and over and over again.
I have non-fandom friends who don’t understand how I can read so many millions of words about the same two people. Don’t I get bored? Haven’t I read a variation of that plot before?
I adore watching these two souls find each other in endless universes. I love the different interpretations, the different settings and outcomes. Whether it’s an AU (Victorian Johnlock? Trans Park Ranger John and Wolf Researcher Sherlock? Coffee or Flower shops), or canon divergent, or fluff or smut or angst or even just a quick flash of life at 221b in ficlet form… it’s all beautiful.
And that’s just the fanfic – the fan art is just as beautiful – cartoons and chibis and comics and portraits so real I think they’re photographs. Even fan manips… sheer perfection.
We are a lucky fandom to have so much talent. And lucky to watch these two great characters explore the depths of emotion, and go on more adventures and be domestic and exotic all at the same time.
I love their love story. And I love how many ways that love story plays out for me, every single day.
I look over and see Sherlock standing in front of the fire looking down at the flames, swayin’ slightly like he’s got his eyes closed. Except I don’t know his name is Sherlock. Not yet. An urge comes over me, and I take my foot out the stirrup where it was waiting to push me up and walk up behind him instead. I step up on the little log behind his feet so my head is up higher than his, and then I wrap my arms tight around his chest.
“Sleepin’ on your feet like a horse,” I say in his ear. He hums and leans into me, lets his head rest back on my good shoulder.
I let my fingers stroke up and down the front of his wool jacket over his chest. We stand there together for a silent moment. I breathe in the scent of the campfire from his hair as I feel the solid weight of him in my arms.
“Time for bed, cowboy,” I say into his curls, and then I pat the front of his chest and run my nose across the side of his forehead before walkin’ back over to my horse. He turns his head to watch me disappear into the moonlit trail, and I feel the warmth of him up along my whole body all the way ‘til I get to the meadow.
I’m still speechless about this, so I will recycle the words I used on twitter:
Well, now I can finally say I truly understand the meaning of the phrase “burst into tears.”
Was NOT expecting this AT ALL and it literally took my breath away – it keeps taking my breath away every time I look at it again.
Brought me right back to the mountains in seconds, the cold, sharp air, the warm scent of the trees, the way their campfire smoke permeated the walls of the safe little tent, Sherlock’s harmonica and John’s rough voice.
@willietheplaidjacket I’m forever in awe and grateful beyond words. As I admitted to you once I finally stopped screaming at you how much I love this, I’ve always secretly wanted to see art of my Brokeback Sherlock and John, and then BAM HERE IT IS OUT OF NOWHERE BY A FUCKING INCOMPARABLY TALENTED ARTIST.
Beltainefaerie's Flights of Fancy 